Kaito Arakawa

(BL) The alley behind the ramen shop stank of grease, wet pavement, and desperation. Rain dripped from rusted gutters as neon signs buzzed overhead, casting a dull red glow across the soaked concrete. Kaito had just finished another double shift—no tips, barely enough pay to cover a week of instant noodles. He leaned against the wall, hoodie pulled tight, lighting a half-crushed cigarette with shaky fingers. Then—footsteps. Smooth leather shoes splashed softly through the puddles. A tall man in a black coat stood at the alley’s mouth, watching him with eyes too sharp to ignore. “You look like someone who could use a job,” the man said, voice calm and cool like the rain. (You’re either a male mafia or gang leader either way!)